


Twinning

by chicagoartnerd



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Demons, Bloodplay, F/M, Fallen Angels, Faustian Bargain, Mentions of Cannabalism, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:44:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3216197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicagoartnerd/pseuds/chicagoartnerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abigail wants to be gone from this world. Her desperation calls an old predator to her. They strike a deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twinning

She gave into it.

It was so obvious after she accepted there was no place for her amongst them.

Killing yourself was easy when the world spent every other word telling you how much it hated every aspect of your existence. Nothing you were was acceptable for any number of their reasons and worst of all sometimes it was unacceptable for no reason. She had already taken one life. And it was the least painful thing she had ever done. Her own shouldn’t be that much harder.

They said that the cleverest people were often the most depressed because they knew no amount of brains could ever make them happy. Only one person had ever made her happy and he had turned out to be a murdering serial killer. That really said more about her than it did about him. He was a good father. He had shown her the parts of himself that were nurturing for her and hid the rest. No one who hadn’t killed would ever understand what it felt like. And seemingly no one understood why she still loved him deep down where they couldn’t see.

He was still her father and she loved him even after he told her why all those girls had to die. Even after Abigail learned that she was the reason they all had pretty brown hair and big blue eyes. It would have made sense to die then to stop him but she was so selfish.

Most female suicides were from an overdose.

At least when there wasn’t a gun available. If there was one thing to say for America it was that there was almost always a gun available. Made it much easier to off yourself. But she was in a foster home so a kitchen knife and a bathtub of warm water seemed like the best thing. There was even a dotted line on her throat to cut on thanks to her father.

It didn’t hurt as much as it had when he had sliced her neck open.

Maybe that was because it had been a surprise. The shock of betrayal cutting deeper and freer than the blade. Everyone around her had seen her tragic ending coming. So much blood like the ephemeral tails of sunset clouds or running foxes. Red like rust. Sweet candy apple red.

She woke up.

That was something she hadn’t planned on.

Her wrists were in restraints and she was once again enveloped in sterile hospital whites. Angry tears burned hot and impotent in her eye sockets. She couldn’t even die right.

It should have been so easy, there was literally nothing left for her here. Yet life clung to her like a pernicious cobweb. Either that or she had some sort of sadistic purpose. If she had a guardian angel then surely they had fallen long ago.

The next couple days were blurred by painkillers and incoherent mumblings from hospital staff. The next time she awoke she was met with mint green walls. The restraints still chained her to the bed but she was sitting up now. Her head no longer felt stiffly glued onto her shoulders.

When she turned to face the door she saw him there, a halo of hot florescent bulbs making him glow with ominous light.

Abigail knew she had truly woken up in Hell. His crinkled brown eyes welcomed her there gleefully.

The last time she woke up a nurse informed her that there was nothing in room, not even sheets, that could be used to end her life so to not even try. If she did she would be restrained again. The nurse handed her a small cup of pills and left. She ate them not really feeling any different and swung her legs over the sides of her cot listlessly.

This wasn’t Hell but instead some sort of purgatory for souls who weren’t quite evil enough to be put down but were bad enough they wouldn’t be welcome anywhere else. Not even this barren earth.

In actuality it was a psych ward but who was to say that wasn’t some sort of liminal dimension anyway.

She was laying flat on her back facing the spackled white ceiling, her fingers scrabbled soundlessly at the plastic bed cover. She felt rather than heard when he ghosted in again. Abigail dreaded his presence but also wanted to talk to him. He wore the white coat of a doctor but the dead merciless eyes of an apex predator. He didn’t belong here even more than she didn’t it seemed.

“Hello Miss Hobbs. I will be your psychotherapist for your stay here in the Baltimore General mental health ward. My name is Doctor Hannibal Lecter but you may call me Doctor Lecter, or later if it makes you more comfortable Hannibal.”

“Those aren’t your names just like Abigail and Hobbs aren’t mine. Not anymore anyway.”

His eyes grew sharp and he swiftly came to stand before her.

“Why did you try to kill yourself Abigail?”

Her guileless wide eyes met his.

“The same reason anyone tries to I suppose. Life is unbearable.”

He took a sharp breath through his nose, then grabbed her chin hard and forced her face close to his own.

“That is not the real reason. You are smarter than that.”

He was like thunder. So close and she wanted to hiss and spit in his face. Chew his lip off and then kiss the blood away. Abigail wanted to provoke this thing in front of her.

“Perhaps that’s the real reason then.”

He squeezed harder and her jaw ached as pain spread into her still healing neck. She flinched but didn’t look away. The truth then.

“Because everything was gray. There was no longer any vibrancy to the world. Sounds like depression doesn’t it.”

He abruptly let go of her face and she almost fell back flat on the bed. Panting. He eyed her critically.

“And this was after your father died?”

He knew. He must have read her file. Worthless as it didn’t even begin to peer inside her. He was doing that right now, she could feel him rooting around behind her eyes. She licked her lips.

“No. This was after I killed the brother of my father’s last victim.”

Hannibal’s blank tightly controlled façade slipped and a smile of dark humor overtook him.

“What did you do with his body?”

Yes. Her father had taught her to read people when as a child she couldn’t. He had taught her never to waste a single piece of a kill. He made her understand that in order to survive they had to devour. To become more. This man was more. It was like looking in a dirty window with a light behind it. She was ready.

“There are twelve foster kids at my home in Westchester. They never had enough food. I made dinner a couple nights and no one cared that there was a little extra roast venison and cured beef. Lots of mouths to feed.”

His eyes came alive. Black had never burned so brightly.

“And the bones?”

She smiled placidly back.

“What do you do with the bones?”

“When I am finished with them there are no bones.”

She laughed in his face and his only response was a disaproving frown. Abigail rubbed her slowly purpling jaw and couldn’t stop the intermittent manic laughter from springing painfully up. Her legs spread wide as she inched back on bed still choking out snorts and sighs of glee. The creature towered over her. He was built like a man but truly was a thing wearing a nicely tailored suit. A shadow with a medical license.

“I can save you.”

She grinned brilliantly at that. There was no doubt in her mind at exactly what he meant. Abigail had passed the point of madness and come out the other side. Everything smelled like the deciduous forests she had run unfettered in with her Father. They had been the rulers of their domain. On top of that comforting scent was the heavy tang of blood coating the inside of her nose and mouth. There was apparently a deal to be struck here.

“Surely my soul would have already belonged to you because I killed myself why ‘save’ me?”

His gaze was hooded as he ran his long weathered fingers delicately over the angry red mark curled around her neck.

“No. What you were attempting wasn’t suicide. You were trying to spare the world some evil and the powers that be would have blessed you for that.”

She wanted to cry and laugh at the same time but instead reached up and in one fluid motion twinned her fingers with his around her neck. He pushed her back slowly on the bed and squeezed just tight enough for her to really feel it. She could still breathe. It wasn’t nearly hard enough.

“What if I say no?”

The whole length of his body pressed heavily against hers as he leaned down to murmur in her ear.

“You’re welcome to whatever half life you can wring from this place or you may come with me and see the world in all of its’ tainted beauty. I don’t make that offer more than once and I don’t offer often.”

Abigail closed her eyes and struggled to breathe normally while his hands pressed down steadily harder. Her body was on fire. Everything was surging and ebbing at the same time. She felt alive again for the first time in months. Still she taunted him a bit. Nothing worth having was ever easy. Make him work for his supper.

“Is this where you usually find people like me?”

He pressed his hips brutally against hers and she choked against his increasingly punishing grip.

“More than you would think but still not enough. You are a special case Abigail.”

Her eyes snapped open and he leaned in close enough that their noses touched. They were both shaking.

“That’s not my name anymore. Set me free.”

His eyes were as hungry as the rest of him. She was going to become a shadow with teeth as well.

“As you wish oisillon.”

His large calloused hands clamped down on her throat and for a terrifying second it felt glorious. She couldn’t even gasp as hazy red orange flooded her vision and she writhed weakly under him. His voice was thick and heavy with desire as he whispered words in her ear in a language that hadn’t been uttered aloud for thousands of years. She knew exactly what he was saying nonetheless.

It was the language of agonized screams, of harrowing loss, it was death, it was blood and it had been inside her bones all her life. Longer than that. She called back to him in voiceless ecstasy. It burned in the best way as she embraced him, dragging him deeper, pulling him inside her. He let her enfold him, pushing up wildly against each other, both their vitality and strength suddenly coming together in a frenzy. She was so hungry, it was too much and not nearly enough. He almost pulled back from her in alarm, she felt the hesitation as she sunk her teeth into his shoulder and tore a piece from it, devouring him in pain and rippling flames. She swallowed and screamed in joyous climax, he fell as ashes before her. She was ablaze as the whole world shuddered with the terrible sound her pleasure.

She was back.

His hands slipped limply from her neck and she knew there no longer was the mark her father had left for her there.

Hannibal’s hair was oddly disheveled. It was the first thing she noticed with her new eyes. When she opened them again the sharp high color contrast of the shadows that hadn’t been there before made his loose hairs dance. His face flickered between what she had seen before and what was really there. She smiled goofily and fixed those few misplaced strands for him gently. And then she couldn’t stop touching him. He was hers to feel. It was all she could do to stop herself from sinking her fingers into his soft skin, she ran her fingers over his face and neck. There was no need to see herself to know she had metamorphosed like a dusky moth. Reflected there in his blank glassy eyes she was a creature of terrible beauty. A red queen. A terror. And she was his just as much as he was now hers. That hadn’t been what he had intended. She had taken more than he had wanted to give her. Her muscles crawled with unused energy. The room around them practically hummed with it. The smell of ozone and dripping sex.

Hannibal’s instantly troubled glare proved that she now held tremendous power. Over mortals and over him. This was better than even her wildest nightmares.

“Lets go.”

The being she had become held out her now porcelain hand and he took it like a gentleman of ages past. She was resplendent in her thin gray hospital scrubs, her bare feet didn’t even touch the cold linoleum floor as they glided out of the secure ward. She was small next to him, his form a towering monolith of power at her side. The glow she now emitted was cold and brutal as it was beautiful and serene. An ancient weathered knight and his deadly little Queen. The whole world was now their chess board. It was time to go find some pawns.

As they walked out of the ward unseen by cameras every orderly they passed felt a wicked chill spill over their lungs and the sudden desire to run. She had arrived. At last.

**Author's Note:**

> I might have a sexy Satan kink. Fucking Hannibal hits that spot like whoa. Oisillon is French for fledgling, or baby bird. But Abigail turns out to be more of a dragon than a bird. There was more this of Will basically being seduced by both of them to surrender his soul but I cut it for completionist reasons. I'm trying to shore up parts of my massive WIPs folder.


End file.
